Perspective
by crysthur and artheph
Summary: It's all in the way you look at things. Seven: SasukeSakura
1. Supposed To

Author's note: ahhh, hello all! it's been a while... but school's been crazy insane, and my writing moods are few and far between. sigh. it makes me sad. but LOOK. it's my first drabble! 100 words, i do believe. i'm hoping this will become like.. a compendium of drabbles... so updates will probably depend on whenever my brain comes up with something new... sorry, guys, that's not very consistent...

Artheph has left me alone for the night, so i have to find ways to keep myself entertained... whatever SHALL i do? but anyways, do enjoy.

-Crysthur

* * *

Feeling like this was never part of the plan. 

_She wasn't supposed to._

The way her heart sped up whenever those eyes of his looked through her.

_She wasn't supposed to_.

The pride, the awe, the envy, the longing that welled up in the pit of her stomach as she watched him spin in a shell of fiery blue flames

_She wasn't supposed to._

The way she came alive when she was with him, content to just be near him.

_She wasn't supposed to._

She fell in love.

_She wasn't supposed to._

Funny thing is, he wasn't supposed to either.


	2. As the Wind Goes

Author's Note: All rightttt, this is a welcome relief from this angst-ing business we've been going through for the past couple of weeks. No worries, we've got some humor stuff going on that we'll finish up… eventually. Do forgive us for our slowness in these updates, but school is freaking insane. Our English teacher is trying to suck out our souls. It's not very fun. But we're trying. Onto more pressing matters. This story… is just.. I don't know what it is. Fluff? is it? I've never been good at classifying things. But whatever it is, I hope you enjoy.

-Crysthur

OH, by the by, Artheph's half-birthday is coming up. she's going to be… 15 and a half soon. meaning that she CAN GO GET HER PERMIT! HUZZAH! We're both very excited. All right, TO THE STORY!

* * *

Standing over the tombstone of his brother, he was hit again with the irony of the situation. He thought back on all those times people had told him that getting revenge would not bring him the peace he wanted. Well what do you know, they were right. Uchiha Sasuke was not a happy man.

It had been two years ago on this exact day that he had finally succeeded in avenging his family. As his brother lay prone on the floor, breathing his last, a sense of… disappointment filled him. It wasn't as if he had been expecting fireworks or a shower of confetti from above; that would have just been absurd. But as Itachi finally died, he searched inside his exhausted mind for a feeling, any feeling, of joy, relief, accomplishment… and found nothing of the sort. Instead, he was left with an emptiness, for now he truly was the last Uchiha, sole survivor of the genius clan. That single thought was suffice to drown him in waves of loneliness every time it occurred to him. He was alone in the world, all alone…

A warm hand took his, fitting perfectly into the familiar contours of his hand with practiced ease.

"Are you ready to go, Sasuke-kun?"

Breaking out of his memories, he shook that far-off, distant look from his eyes and turned to face her. Strands of silky pink hair fluttered in the wind.

"Aa."

He let her lead him down the hill, a soft smile spreading over his features as each step took him further away from the monument of his tortured past. Pulling her close, he breathed her in.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't so alone after all.


	3. Light and Dark

Author's note: yeah, this is the closest to an OC I'm ever gonna get. and I'm gonna take comfort in the fact that SINCE HE DOES NOT HAVE A NAME, he is not an OC. just, let me live in denial about this right now, yeah? but anyways, hope you enjoy.

Crysthur

* * *

Throughout his childhood, he had been called cute and adorable. Random old women on the streets cooed over him and pinched his cheeks while others fawned over how he was the "spitting image of his father," a phrase that he became all too familiar with as he grew older. At 16, the only word that could be used to describe him was beautiful. An entire new generation of girls learned what it was to obsess and pine over unrequited love. 

He had a head of dark hair, just like his dad, and his features exuded a brooding angstiness, a trait that also undoubtedly came from his father. And he had his father's smile, a smile which, to everyone's great surprise, turned out to be warm and genuine. In fact, on the outside, he was indeed the spitting image of his father, save for one thing: he had his mother's eyes. That is where his resemblance to his father ended, for in all other respects, he was exactly like his mother. Contrary to the gloomy persona he appeared to have, he actually wore his heart on his sleeve, this openness contributing to his already charismatic personality and drawing people to him everywhere he went. And in his eyes, eyes that were deep and brilliant with shades of green, every emotion could be plainly read. Yet those eyes could turn fierce and red when the situation called for it, a testament to his father's lineage.

His father's looks and talent and his mother's grace and personality. He was the perfect combination of light and dark.


	4. Desire

Artheph's Note: Man, I might as well slice my wrists now because this is so atrociously angsty. Augh, this is what a piano competition gone wrong does to you. So, as a tip, anyone who wants to crack out some angst, go play badly at a piano competition. It'll work wonders. Anyway, back to this tiny drabble. It's really short…like less than 100 words, which is pretty new for me. Usually, I can't handle under-developed stories. And it doesn't really make sense. I tried to expand it a little, but that turned out gross so I kept it in its original form. Enjoy, yeah?

He needed her. He craved her. He wanted to feel those soothing touches, those butterfly kisses. He wanted to see that light in her eyes.

His breathing quickened, as his desires grew unbearable. Not thinking clearly, he reached out to his right, hoping to find her warmth, her curves. But there was nothing else on his bed, only empty space. He opened his eyes in panic.

She was gone; she was gone.

Naruto had killed her on accident.

He had killed Naruto on purpose.

So who would kill him?


	5. Perception

Author's note: hrm. no idea WHAT this is. in Artheph's words, i think we're trying to get faux deep here. haw haw. i do believe this might by my first ever generic fic. HURRAH! anyways, enjoy, cause it might be the last thing we post for a little bit.. Artheph will be.. out of commission for the next week... and i'm kind of incapable of making any decision whatsoever without her, so... heh.

Crysthur

* * *

One saw the world in black and white. The space in between did not exist; there was no middle ground. On one side were his goals, his desires, his ambitions; on the other was everything else, everyone else. When it came down to right and wrong, his side was always right, and the other, always wrong. There were those who were strong and those who were weak. The strong stay strong and the weak stay weak. Nothing could change that. It was simple.

The other saw the world in shades of gray. He saw right and wrong, yet he also saw the in between, where the line that divided the two blurred. Knowing that each person had their own idea of what was right and what was wrong, who was he then, to judge whose right was right and whose right was wrong? He saw the strong and the weak, but at the same time, he knew that the there was the chance of the strong becoming weak, just as the weak had the ability to become strong. For him, opportunities for change were unlimited.

The last saw the world in vibrant colors. Right and wrong, strong and weak, none of these existed for her. What existed was the person himself, his thoughts, his feelings, his very _being_. She saw all sides of the story, thus giving her a sense of compassion, the extent of which knew no bounds.

One came off as cold and unfeeling; the other, fiery and passionate; the last, weak and useless.


	6. Pieces

Author's Note: hello all! it's another one of these really short drabble-like-but-not-really-things. this started out as like.. a full-blown story. as in.. more than 300 words long. but then i looked at it one day.. and had my backspace key do a lot of work, and this is what i ended up with. heh. sorry guys. i've hit a writer's block. it makes me sad. oh well. do enjoy.

Crysthur

* * *

It was raining the night she told him she loved him. It was perfect, really. Seemed rather fitting that the heavens should shed a few tears as her world fell apart around her, the bits and pieces of her being coming to a halt at his words.

This isn't going to work, he breathed into her ear.

There is no such thing as love, he said. It's just a chemical reaction in your head. It means nothing; it has no bearing on anything whatsoever. Look at Sakura. Her love didn't stop Sasuke from leaving. Love didn't stop Itachi from murdering his own family. Was it love that killed my father? he asked with more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. No, that wasn't love. That was duty and a brand.

I'm sorry, he whispered quietly, but I can't give you anything but empty words.

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her broken as her tears mingled freely with the rain from the sky.

She loved him to pieces.

And every time she fell apart, he was there to catch her and patiently glue her pieces back together.

After all, what are friends for?


	7. Just Like This

Author's Note: well then. it's been a while, huh? like.. all summer kinda. yeah. but regardless. little drabble for you here. do enjoy.

Crysthur

* * *

Rain falls in torrents from the sky as the last enemy falls, victim to the edge of his katana. He stumbles and drops to his knees, red swirling away into black, panicked eyes. He sees a flash of pink among the bodies and crawls painfully towards it, knowing that it's her he'll find there, knowing she'll have that same, blank look on her face as when she first went down, before his entire world turned to blood.

-x-

"Promise me you'll hold me forever." she'd say, strands of pink framing the soft green of her eyes. 

"Just like this?" he'd ask, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Just like this."

-x-

He can't help but think back on all the times that exchange had passed between them, the sweetness of her voice filling his mind as he cradles her to his chest, certain that he'll never move again. 

After all, promises are made to be kept.


End file.
